This past week (or two) was to floor the kitchen area, including repairing the old laundry floor which had tiles on it and now becomes the kitchen. After Margo chipped those old tiles off, we were left with with an uneven surface that needed levelling and somekind of product to make it happen.
DUNLOP has a product for that and it worked perfectly… but Levi had to give it a once over before it dried. GRRR.
We used marine plywood in the pantry and liked it so much that we considered using in the kitchen too. After all the trouble we had with specialized tongue and groove spotted-gum boards (and expense) in the bedroom, we looked at other options for the rest of the home. Margo’s a keen Pinterest browser and saw someone using it and thought it might do the trick for us. The pantry was a trial run: if it looked and felt good, was easy to work with, we’d try it again for the kitchen.
There’s a bit of prep-work as the boards aren’t such when you buy them. Plywood comes in large sheets. It has to be slit, sanded, panted and sealed before becoming a floor.
When it’s done the result begins to take shape.
We decided we needed a break and went crabbing… and sunburning.
It was worth it though. We came back with all of these! Crab meat on fresh, buttered bread is exquisite.
The back of our home still hasn’t got its extension yet. The guys haven’t been back to finish what they started. Remember, this was to be done by Christmas last year!
After ripping the cladding off for them to roof the open area, we were left with an exposed internal wall when they walked away from it. They said they’d be back when the new material arrives. So it was back up a ladder for me to cover the wall with tarps.
Margo’s niece Jane had a baby boy, Charlie, named after her Grandad. He’s just lovely!
I had an hour of this little treasure napping right there on my shoulder. It’s no wonder so many people are doing this. But they’re not always like this, are they? At some point they become hideous noisemakers. That’s the time to hand ’em back. As my part being a part-time uncle, I choose the good postcard bits of baby holding over the squeely, didn’t-read-the-fine-print ones. So as I hand Charlie back to his dad for a nappy change, I bid you all a farewell.